


But Your Wings Are Beautiful

by RadiantSeraphina (Lady_Arrowwood)



Category: Kirby (Video Games), Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8018302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Arrowwood/pseuds/RadiantSeraphina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirby wants his wings to be like Meta Knight's. Meta Knight wants them to be light and feathery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Your Wings Are Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuminousMoonRay](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LuminousMoonRay).



> For the lovely LuminousMoonRay, who thought I ought to write something involving Kirby's admiration for Meta Knight's wings.

Kirby sat on the edge of the bed and kicked his feet childishly. The puffball’s back flared in hot, itchy pain, and he held back a whine of discomfort. Across the room, Meta Knight mixed together a pale green salve. It was difficult to tell the specifics of what Meta Knight was doing. He moved from cabinet to cabinet, pulling items and mixing them together, while his cape swished around his feet. “This room looks really boring,” Kirby said, trying to distract himself.

 

“It’s an infirmary. It’s not supposed to be—”

 

“You should paint the walls pink!” Kirby interrupted. “I could do it. I haven’t used the Paint ability in a while.”

 

Meta Knight disappeared in his cape and reappeared beside Kirby. The knight's bright eyes betrayed his amusement. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Meta Knight said.

 

The knight’s gloves had vanished, probably stored inside the Dimensional Cape, and in his paws, Meta Knight held a bowl of the salve. It smelled like mint. “Is that edible?” Kirby asked.

 

“No.”

 

The puffball’s face fell. “I’ll give you a lollipop when we’re done,” Meta Knight promised. “Roll over.”

 

Cheered, Kirby rolled onto his stomach. Meta Knight’s paws were gentle and soft on Kirby’s burning back. “Yes, I imagine it does hurt,” Meta Knight murmured. “The skin looks red. Don’t worry. This will help.”

 

“The wings will be worth it.”

 

Meta Knight hummed and spread the cold salve over Kirby’s back. It was numbing and tingled in a wonderfully comforting way. Kirby sighed and relaxed against the table. He didn’t know where Meta Knight had picked up his medicinal skills from, but he was immensely grateful for them. “They’re going to be huge and dragon-y,” Kirby said. “Just like yours, Meta!”

 

“They’re going to be large and feathery,” Meta Knight said, “Like Galacta Knight’s. I’ve told you that.”

 

Kirby frowned. He didn’t _want_ wings like Galacta Knight’s.

 

“Besides,” Meta Knight continued. “Wouldn’t you like those? Prince Fluff’s wings are quite extraordinary. Don’t you want to have wings like your friend’s?”

 

The prince of Patchland had grown wings just a few months before. They were small and brown with spots of white feathered throughout. Presently, the wings looked small and awkward, but they’d grow quickly. And they’d be very beautiful, indeed.

 

“Yeah,” Kirby said. “I _do_ want wings like my friend’s.”

 

Meta Knight paused. “You know I meant Prince Fluff.”

 

“Yeah, but I still want wings like yours,” Kirby insisted, looking longingly at Meta Knight’s cape.

 

“You don’t get a cape to hide them in,” Meta Knight said.

 

“So?”

 

“So you’d rather have feathery wings,” Meta Knight said. “They’re nicer and more aerodynamic. Faster. Better.”

 

“But yours are _cooler_ ,” Kirby replied. “They’re big and strong! And like Landia’s!”

 

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Meta Knight said. “Yours are going to be large and feathery. The odds of you having wings like mine are very slight.”

 

Kirby grinned, undeterred. “I bet my wings will be _just_ like yours, except pink. I’m not sure why you’re so against the idea. Wouldn’t you like a friend to have wings like yours?”

 

“No,” Meta Knight said, his tone harsh with warning. “I wouldn’t wish these wings on anyone. They aren’t something to be proud of or to be admired, Kirby. Hope for wings like Galacta Knight’s.”

 

“Big, feathery things that take forever to preen?” Kirby asked.

 

Meta Knight stepped away, and Kirby sat upright, watching. The knight was pacing, his cape twitching with every movement. Was Meta Knight _angry_? Kirby frowned. Why would Meta Knight be angry? Shouldn’t he be flattered? Or happy? “Meta—”

 

“Get out.”

 

Kirby hopped from the table and tilted his head, hoping Meta Knight would recognize his confusion and explain. “Do you not like your wings?” Kirby asked. “You enjoy flying so much—”

 

Meta Knight wrapped himself in his cape. “This is the end of the discussion. Get out, and _never_ say anything like this ever again. You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what you want.”

 

“But I—”

 

Meta Knight was gone. Kirby sat on the ground, his eyes burning. Had he messed up somehow? He must’ve for Meta Knight to leave in a hurry like that. Kirby rubbed a paw over his eyes in case Meta Knight was still watching. Tears made Meta Knight uncomfortable for some reason that no one had ever figured out. “Bye, Meta,” Kirby mumbled, getting to his feet.

 

He wanted the knight to appear and explain it more, so Kirby could know what he’d done wrong. Meta Knight wasn’t very good at giving explanations, though. He never had been. 

 

* * *

 

 

Kirby’s face lit up with delight. Just as he’d been about to go to bed for the night, there’d been a knock on his door. It was Meta Knight, who never visited. Relief settled over Kirby. He must’ve not offended Meta Knight too badly, if the knight was still willing to talk to him, and Meta Knight hadn’t offered a sword, which meant he wasn’t itching for a late night duel. Had he dropped by to talk? Or maybe suggest an adventure?

 

“I promised you candy,” Meta Knight said, offering Kirby a lollipop.

 

Kirby’s smile faded. It was just an honor thing, wasn’t it? Meta Knight was only keeping his word, and once the promise was fulfilled, he’d leave. Was Meta Knight still upset? Maybe if Kirby didn’t take the lollipop, Meta Knight would be forced to stay longer. Maybe Kirby could coax the knight into talking more, so Kirby could figure out what he’d done wrong. Could he get Meta Knight to stay for—what was something adults stayed around for?

 

“You’re interrupting my tea time!” Kirby declared.

 

“Tea time,” Meta Knight echoed blankly.

 

“Y-yeah, and that’s rude! So you have to make up for it! So I’m not taking that lollipop until you make up for it!”

 

“And how shall I make it up to you?” Meta Knight inquired, sounding utterly baffled.

 

“By staying for tea, of course!”

 

“What kind of tea are you making?” Meta Knight asked.

 

“Um. Ginger and lemongrass with mint and secret herbal stuff!”

 

“Secret herbal stuff.”

 

Kirby balanced on the tips of his feet and waved his arms. “Yeah, it’s the best tea in all Pop Star! Really! So you’re gonna stay and try some, right?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Meta Knight said, “Since I’ve interrupted your tea time.”

 

“Great!”

 

Kirby spun around, so Meta Knight didn’t see his face. Kirby had no idea how to make tea. “Please, have a seat by the table,” Kirby said, waving with a paw. “It’ll be done in just a second.”

 

“As you wish,” Meta Knight replied.

 

The click of the knight’s sabatons indicated that he’d sat where Kirby asked. Thrilled, the younger puffball produced two teacups from the top of a shelf. He filled them with cold water. That was the easy part. Kirby furrowed his brow and took stock of the small amount of possible tea making supplies. He plucked two mint leaves from a container and dropped one into each cup. There. Mint. That was a proper tea, wasn’t it?

 

It would be so much simpler if he had the Chef power-up. Kirby dropped in two spoonfuls of cocoa powder into each one, then a spoon of honey. He stirred it all up before dropping two cups of straight sugar into each cup.

 

Satisfied with his tea, Kirby took one cup in each hand and spun around. He was quite proud and happy to present it to Meta Knight.

 

The knight sat at the table, the promised lollipop setting on the wood surface. In Meta Knight’s paw was a doodle. Kirby felt his face warm. It was a crayon scribble of he and Meta Knight flying in the sky together. Kirby had drawn himself with massive, pink bat wings just like Meta Knight’s. And while Kirby didn’t know _exactly_ how he’d upset Meta Knight, he knew it had something to do with wings.

 

“Um, that’s an old drawing!” Kirby lied hastily. “I…I—you can just throw it away. I’ve been cleaning them out, and…”

 

“I don’t understand why you admire me so much. I’m hardly deserving of that. I want to apologize, Kirby. I hurt your feelings earlier today, and I wasn’t very fair. I should’ve told you why I was so upset, rather than expecting you to read my mind,” Meta Knight said. “I just want your life to be better than mine, but I went about it all wrong.”

 

“Because you’re the coolest person I know,” Kirby said, “And I want to be like you when I’m older. So smart and brave! And—and mysterious!”

 

Kirby placed the cups of tea on the table and sat across from Meta Knight. The knight's cape shimmered and rippled like sunlight on a river, and his wings slowly unfurled. He spread them wide. They reminded Kirby of the night sky, dark, vast, and infinitely magnificent. “My mother left me in the woods when they grew in,” Meta Knight said.

 

Nonplussed, Kirby grabbed a cup of tea and took a careful sip. It tasted like straight sugar. “To do what?” Kirby asked.

 

Meta Knight’s wings twitched. “She didn’t expect me to survive, Kirby.”

 

Kirby stared at Meta Knight for a long moment. He imagined a much younger Meta Knight with tiny wings perched on his back. He imagined it being cold and rainy and poor Meta Knight being hungry and brokenhearted. “Because of your wings?” Kirby asked. “I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

 

“She and all my siblings had proper wings. Big and feathery. Most of our kind have those, but I didn't. So she abandoned me. I survived, of course. Or rather, a wizard found me. A very cruel one. He hated everything about me, except those wings. He performed experiments to try and make them grow bigger and stronger. He tried to alter me, so I’d be more…worthy of them. I was too cute to have them. He kept me for thousands of years as some sort of play-thing.”

 

“How did…how did you get away?” Kirby asked.

 

“I killed him,” Meta Knight replied, with a shrug. “And from there, I wandered around for a while. And I learned that people associated my wings with evil and darkness. They called me a monster and hunted for me. Eventually, I crashed into Dreamland, and I was lucky. Dedede liked my wings. He liked _me_. He wasn’t king yet, but his family was wealthy and respected. So people left me alone. Slowly, I earned their trust, but it was so hard, Kirby.”

 

Kirby’s gaze drifted to the drawing. “I just…I just wanted them because they’d make me like you. They’re going to be feathery or dragon-like, right? So I’ll look like Galacta Knight or you, and I want…” Kirby trailed off.

 

“And therein lies the problem,” Meta Knight said. “I was so consumed with my own experiences that I didn’t even think about what you might want or what these wings might mean to you. And I was afraid for you. Your power of transformation is unusually powerful, even among our kind, and I thought that it might influence your wings. If you really want them, you’ll likely get them, Kirby. Fortunately, Galaxia talked some sense into me. She says that the people who really matter will think your wings are beautiful regardless, and she’s right, of course.”

 

He could make them look like Meta Knight’s? Kirby couldn’t meet the knight’s gaze. Hadn’t he always fantasized about having wings like Meta Knight’s ever since he was a tiny puffling? “And if you do, that’s okay,” Meta Knight said. “I shouldn’t have discouraged your choice, but you ought to know that wings like mine draw suspicion in some places. They’re an ill omen in many cultures.”

 

“But…but aren’t some things worth _being_ even if you know it won’t be easy?” Kirby asked. “If I think I’ll feel more like myself with wings like yours…”

 

“Then, you should hope to have them,” Meta Knight said.

 

“Is that your blessing?”

 

The knight hummed and nodded. Then, he picked up the drawing and gazed at it, his eyes softening. “And I daresay, Kirby, they’ll look quite splendid on you.”

 

* * *

 

 

When he finally grew them in, the wings that perched on Kirby's back were cute and tiny. And, Kirby reflected, Meta Knight was right. Even though the wings were nowhere near their full-size, they did look quite splendid on him.


End file.
